


Lonely Gets You Somewhere

by mydeira



Series: Something Maybe 'Verse [15]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack isn’t the only one to pay Owen a visit in hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Gets You Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: through “Combat”
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I am neither RTD nor the BBC. This is purely for the exorcism of the big bad bunny that landed on my head.
> 
> A/N: Follows Over A Couple Of Drinks and takes place near the end of the episode “Combat.” This is the fifteenth installment in the Something Maybe ‘Verse. Most of what we saw in the episode transpires pretty much the same way in my little ‘verse. The title is a bastardization of a lyric from Neil Diamond’s “What’s It Gonna Be (Alternate Take)”. It’s another one of my quintessential Gwen/Owen songs.

Owen shifted in the hospital bed, trying to find a comfortable position. It was a toss up at the moment whether his injuries or the bed itself were more aggravating. He really didn’t need to be kept over night for observation, his injuries were stable and not likely to improve much during that time. And if he were at home, there was a good chance he might actually get some sleep. But oh no, had to follow proper bloody procedure. He fucking hated doctors.

It’s not even like the pain killers were that good. He had better stuff at home courtesy of Torchwood. The best stuff was at Torchwood itself. Now if Jack had really wanted to be a hero, he could have brought some of those along with him.

The only thing that kept Owen from walking out the door was the fact that he wasn’t all that keen on going back to his nice, quiet flat. At least here there were enough annoyances and minor distractions to keep him from thinking too much about what had happened. Not that any of it bothered him. Really. His only regret in the whole affair was that he hadn’t gotten in that damned cage sooner. If he had, then—

There was a light knock at his door. Speaking of annoyances and minor distractions… A moment later, Gwen’s head peeked around the door.

“Oh, good, you are awake.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that good,” he grumbled. He couldn’t decide right now whether he was glad to see her or whether she was the last person he wanted to see. No, that would be Jack. Fortunately, his visit was well out of the way.

Gwen gave him a tight smile as she entered the room. “Sarcastic as ever. Guess those injuries weren’t too severe,” she said dryly. Underneath it all, Owen detected the barest touch of concern. It didn’t mean he was anyone special. Concern for the injured or helpless came as naturally as breathing to her.

Sitting up a little straighter, he asked, “Come to read me the riot act?”

She shook her head. “You have your reasons. Nothing I could say would make any difference. Would it?”

He was surprised to find himself feeling disappointed at that. “So why are you here, Gwen?”

“Just checking up on you,” she replied, taking great care to straighten the tissue box on his bed stand.

“Bit banged up, but I’m the same bastard I always was.”

“I can see that.” And he realized then that she wasn’t looking at him, hadn’t looked at him since she first came in. He knew he didn’t look that bad.

There was something about her behavior that worried him. Which was ridiculous. What did he care if anything was wrong with her? She’d made it crystal clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Just another coworker in a long string that he had fucked. Her personal problems weren’t his concern.

But before he could stop himself, he asked, “Something’s going on. Out with it.”

She did look at him then, eyes red rimmed with faint dark circles. “You don’t need my shit on top of your own. I’ll see you at work,” she said, starting to walk away.

He reached up quickly, grabbing her wrist and keeping her there. The sharp, burning pain from several of his injuries told him it wasn’t the smartest move to make, but it was too late.

“What’s wrong, Gwen?” His voice was rough, edged with pain. He cared, whether he wanted to or not.

“I… It’s not… I shouldn’t be here,” she said finally, trying to free herself.

He held on tighter. “Maybe not, but you are. So out with it.”

She swallowed audibly. “I told Rhys everything. Or tried to. But the…the Retcon worked too fast.”

Maybe the drugs here weren’t so bad after all. There was no way Gwen had—

“You used Retcon. On your boyfriend.” He spoke slowly, trying to make sense of the words as he said them.

She didn’t say anything.

Owen could feel his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her wrist, but the pain didn’t seem to register. “Gwen!”

She snapped to attention at that, seeming to come back to herself. “Yes,” she said, sounding distracted and detached. Almost as an afterthought, “Please let go, there’s going to be a bruise.”

“Yeah, it sounds like that really bothers you, too,” he snapped, holding onto her. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I—I wasn’t, really. Well, I was, but…” Now he could hear panic creeping in. “I had to tell him. But then I got scared, and I thought…what’s the harm?”

What’s the harm? That was how things started, right? One step, then another. Hell, that’s probably how Suzie had started out with her mad little game that---Fuck. He let go of Gwen like she’d burnt him.

“How much did you take from Torchwood?” he asked evenly.

“Just the one dose that I gave to Rhys,” she said.

“Just one?”

“Yes.” Now the panic was being edged out by fear.

He took that as a good sign. “You’re a bright woman, Gwen. After all the shit you’ve seen, how could you be so fucking stupid?”

Her dark hair swayed as her head moved slowly from side to side. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. You don’t do something like that without a damned good reason,” he growled.

She started to back away , but his move to grab her again was enough to stop her.

“It’s all falling apart, Owen,” she said, voice a bit higher than normal. “I’m losing things, and I can’t let go of the things I should.” She paused for a moment. “I can’t look at Rhys, knowing what I did. Can’t go home. You’ve moved on. And I don’t blame you. As for me… Fuck,” her voice cracked, “I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore.”

Owen didn’t even think. “Come here.” He tugged Gwen down to the bed, wincing as she sat, the movement jarring his injuries. Reaching up, he brushed her wild hair out of her face so he could see her unobstructed. It was almost painful seeing the dead, lost look in her eyes, not unlike the one they’d held after the run in with the cannibals. “You regret what you did, that much is obvious,” he said softly. “You know what you did is wrong. That tells me something right there. And you know what that is?”

“What?”

“That you’re still very much you, Gwen Cooper.”

She turned her head, looking down at the ground.

He grabbed her chin and forced her head back up. “Still you, Gwen,” he restated.

“I don’t feel much like myself.”

“I haven’t felt much like myself lately, either,” he said, trying to smile. “I generally don’t walk around with a death wish.” And that’s exactly what he’d had when he walked into the cage with the Weevil. No, not death wish, so much as he figured why not? It was pretty much same old shit, different day. Time to change things up.

“Is it really this job that fucks us up?” she asked quietly. “Or does it give us the chance to find out how fucked up we really are?”

There was food for thought. He shrugged. “I’d imagine a bit of both, actually. Would a sane person want to do the stuff we do?”

“A sane person wouldn’t survive,” she laughed, but it was a hollow, slightly broken sound. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry, Owen. You didn’t need this. You’ve got your own things to deal with.”

“I don’t know,” he mused, toying with a strand of her hair, “selfish though I am, I’ve never been too crazy about my own problems.”

“Nobody likes their own problems,” Gwen stated.

They sat in comfortable silence.

Finally, Gwen said, “I should probably get going. You need your rest.”

“Maybe. But I’m not going to get much in this place,” he smirked. Then deciding he had nothing to lose, “I wouldn’t mind some company right now.”

“Really?”

“Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?” He regretted his choice of words when he saw the sadness creep over her again, but she quickly shook it off.

“There’s nowhere else I want to be at the moment,” she admitted.

Owen couldn’t help but smile at that. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up, but this was better than things had been. Much better. And it was as good a place as any to start over.


End file.
